


Of Vice and Virtue

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-17
Updated: 2009-02-12
Packaged: 2019-01-19 17:40:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12414858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: “Every vice was once a virtue, and may become respectable again, just as hatred becomes respectable in wartime”� Seven Vices coupled with Seven virtues. Please read Ch. 3 Warning. The vice explored is lust and is therefore fairly graphic and not entirely school/work safe. The rating has been bumped up to R as well.





	1. o1. Envy

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

1.Envy:

“Envy eats nothing but its own heart”

His whole life Sirius Black had been envious of others. He was a Black. He was supposed to be the best, and yet, and yet, every time he saw someone it made him realize the useless sack of shit he was. 

He envies Regulus. His brother who hadn't inherited as much of the Black looks or as much of the Black's stubbornness, his brother who was two years younger, who was always lurking in the shadows. He envied Regulus, because while he knew he had more light in his life—Regulus had the approval, he had the love of their family. He envied Regulus for being so indecisive, he wanted that sometimes. To not have to always be fighting. He envied Regulus's ability to stand back and watch the story play out without worry, without a care.

(Somewhere, there is a boy whose same gray eyes and black hair is dying. The only thoughts running through his mind is that he wishes he had been more like his older brother.)

He envied his Regulus. --

He envies Andromeda. She is the only sane one out of the whole lot of Blacks. She is the only one who isn't impulsive or cruel or absolutely barking mad. He envies Andromeda because she wasn't reckless enough to turn the whole family against her when she was young—instead she waited, waited until she could be on her own to make her move. She had done it first and Sirius should have followed in her foot steps. 

He envies Andromeda because she at least grew up with her blood family loving her and praising her and caring for her. He envies Andromeda because when her blood family disengrated and went insane she was smart enough to form a new family—one where there were no prejudices, where their daughter grew up loved and tolerant. 

But most of all he envies Andromeda because she had something in her to make her resilient to the madness that is inherent to all Blacks. He envies her for staying sane. 

(There is a woman with graying hair and time worn gray eyes clutching her grandson and sobbing. The family she worked so hard to keep together is gone. She is the only one left.)

He envied Andromeda. 

\--

He envies James. James Potter is who he aspires to be. He knows that the rest of the world sees them as almost the same person—but in his heart of heart, he knows that the Marauders see them as James and Sirius. He is the sidekick, the tag along. He is the one who taints the group with just a bit of darkness. He envies James for being love and light and pure. James is everything he wants to be. He wants to have the kind heart, the one that is capable of love. (What he feels isn't love...it's a sense of loyalty. And the incapability to love to only feel loyalty is so quintessentially Black that it almost makes him want to cry.) 

But most of all, he envies James for his family. His perfect family. The warm and loving parents who raised their son to be chivalrous and loyal and normal. He envied the new family James built for himself. He envies the beautiful wife, the bright eyed little boy. Every time he holds his godson, a wave of envy towards James Potter comes on so strong it almost borders on hate. 

(A dark haired man and a bright eyed woman stand terrified. “Go! Lily take Harry and run!” the man is screaming. There are two flashes of green light (light as green as the baby's eyes) a soft cry from the child and then silence.) 

He envied James. 

\--

He envies Remus. Remus, who out of all of his friends is the easiest for him to relate to. Remus, the werewolf, the monster who became dark and brooding through no fault of his own but only through the attack of some blood thirsty monster. He envies Remus for being able to keep his insanity from breaking—he envies that Remus Lupin is still in control of himself despite all that he has lost. 

But most of all he envies Remus because he has something palpable. Something that he can touch and see and transform into once a month. (He thinks that it must be nice—once a month a short solitude in which the only thoughts that enter your head are carnal and feral. He needs something like that.) He has a physical representation of his darkness. That's why Sirius suggested they become anamagi. Not out of any real loyalty to Remus but because he secretly hoped that Remus would bite him and then he could be as physically dark and hurt as Remus Lupin. He would have a real excuse then to turn his darkness on the world. 

(A man with sandy hair stands at the final battle ready to accept his death. His only regret is that his wife and son are going to be left without him.) 

He envied Remus. 

\--

He envies Lily. She is fiery and passionate and unafraid to bridge gaps between idealogies. She can love her muggle family with the same intensity that she loves her arrogant, obnoxious, greasy best friend. She ignores norms and follows her heart. She thinks before she acts. Each word, each action is a carefully calculated series of movements. If she wants to hurt you she does so knowingly. She isn't like him—the boy who is so hot headed he manages to ostracize himself because he never thinks. He never plans ahead. 

But most of all, he envies Lily for ability to change the world. She will be someone who is idealistic and smart and intelligent. She will use all of those to fight for a better place to live. He knows she will most likely succeed and that drives him crazy. He wants to be the one renowned for something. He wants to be remembered. He is the one that wishes to change the world for the better—only he knows it will be people like Lily who do it. 

(There is a clandestine meeting—a snake like man is speaking with a greasy hook-nosed young man of roughly twenty. He is passing on information, betraying his best friend.) 

He envied Lily. --

He envies Peter. Short, pudgy untalented Peter. He envies Peter because the boy is still naïve enough to believe in heroes and that's what he, James, and Remus are to one another—heroes. He is the dashingly handsome wild rogue of the group. James the one who keeps the pranks in line from Sirius's sometimes overly cruel mind. Remus was the shy one the one kept tabs on James and Sirius's wild personalities. They all gave to the group—except Peter who was just boring. 

That was what he envies most about Peter. It gets to be too much always trying to shine as brightly as the star he's named after. It gets to be too much trying to keep himself in line. It all just gets to be too much. He thinks that it must be nice to be so boring. 

(An unappreciated, boring boy feels envious of always being out shined. As he has feels the searing pain of a snake and skull, he knows this will be his only way to prove he is exciting as the rest.) 

He envied Peter. 

\--

He envies Bellatrix. Dark, evil, manaical Bellatrix. She is the only one who embraced her insanity, embraced the dark. He envies his cousin because not only does she accept her evilness, she flourishes in it. She grows into one of the most maleficent humans he has ever seen. He envies that. In Azkaban, he envies that she has a reason to be there, he envies that she is already so deranged that even having happy memories erased from her mind, she can still stand strong in her convictions. He envies her pride at being there, that she has the ability to embrace it. 

But what he envies most about Bellatrix is that when the face one another so many years later, she has the ability to do what he had thought about so many times but was too cowardly to do. He envies that she has the ability to kill him. 

(Many years ago, a young stubborn woman falls to her knees sobbing over the betrayal of her younger sister. When she finally is able to compose herself, that is when she vows never to let anyone grow close to her again, this is why the murders of her family members don't phase her.) 

Out of everyone, he envied Bellatrix the most. 


	2. o2. Chastity

A short Author's Note: I do apologize that it's considerably shorter than the first chapter. 

___________________________________________________

Abstinence was his penance. He needed to feel that he had a tangible representation of his atonement. Not sleeping with anyone, his remaining chaste was the best way for him to impose his exile.

First there was the issue of his somewhat nefarious partner. He knew, from the moment that he and Gellert began their relationship they would be seen as strange. He knew that even the wizarding world was not so liberal as to accept two men as a couple. He was not even naive enough to assume that their relationship was one based on love.

(He would admit that he loved Gellert, only once in his life: when he was faced with things that were even too much for the powerful Albus Dumbledore.)

Their relationship according to Gellert was built on a foundation that shook and threatened to collapse at any moment. It was based on domination and subordination, power and weakness. It was a relationship built around proving who could out wit, who could out magic, who was stronger. Their relationship was one that he would look back on and see, that even their sexual encounters offered a bittersweet foreshadowing to what was going to come--he always seemed to take first.

(But just barely. Gellert nearly always had him beat, stumped, until something would click and he would get it, letting him win.)

Yet, even though he nearly always won--it didn't matter. He knew that one thing he respected about Gellert was his ability to be a contemporary. He was drowning, he was suffocating with his family. His father, a great wizard, was locked away. He was rotting in Azkaban. His mother was dead, his brother eccentric and a kind boy, but no one he could talk to. And Ariana...well, she was rotting and drowning in her own mind as much as he was.

Gellert gave him and outlet. He was his compliment, he kept him grounded. Gellert was the one who taught him of worlds and myths he would have never believed. He taught him of sex and of hallows. Even now, as an old man, he would sometimes day dream of those full lips that looked at everyone, everything so disdainfully. (But they felt amazing when applied to his skin.)

The sex for them differed from their relationship the rest of the world saw. Gellert was the one who took control. He was more experienced, more captivating, more talented when it came to the ins and outs of intercourse. Back when they were sleeping together, he had no problem admitting to himself (only to himself) that he was in love with Gellert Grindelwald.

But then...

Everything happened. 

Everything changed. 

There was a fit. 

There was the fight--Albus, Aberforth, Gellert. 

Ariana panics. 

Someone tries to calm her. 

She was dead. 

That was the last Albus would see of Grindelwald for years to come. As penance for his possible sin, he pushed himself away from the hallows. He pushed himself away from romance and love, just as he couldn't be trusted with power, nor could be trusted to love.

The people he cared for--something terrible always befell them.

(He wonders if that's why Aberforth is still living a peaceful life, because he never cared for him as a brother, but instead regarded him with the same cordiality he would a stranger.)

Working, living his life full of no close connections, Albus began to settle with himself. He became content with his sexless, powerless, hallow-less life. He enjoyed teaching, he enjoyed seeing young witches and wizards learn and grow in a positive way. It was another way he could prove to himself that he could do things. Things that didn't have negative ramifications.

Then though, there was that night in 1945. The muggle world was recovering from a war (oddly enough a war caused by some man who was hell bent on creating the dominant race--just as Gellert was trying to do within both worlds.) The content life that he had built around himself was to broken. He couldn't stop it. He had to face Gellert, he had to accept that his own fears of facing his old flame were secondary to the greater good.

The greater good...so odd that those three words were going to join him to Gellert forever. They were words that were to be parroted from both of their mouths for years to come--their ideas of the greater good vastly different though from one anothers.

When he faced Gellert, his wand at the ready, already raised, he was shocked that the same feelings of awe, love, and arousal nudged themselves back up. Even though Gellert was different. Even though he was different, those feelings were still there.

Their wands raise. 

Their eyes lock. 

They duel. 

And they duel. 

The duel lasts only as long as it has to. To this day, he cannot remember everything that happened. Just that it was a meeting, a fight that like all of their others. Simply to determine power and weakness, subordination and domination. The only thing he can remember from that night is the look of utmost surprise when he has taken down his old friend.

That shocked and somewhat proud look that graced Gellert's war-hardened brown eyes is the only thing he can remember. It would be how he always would remember Gellert, that beaten man, the replica of his one-time friend and lover. He never saw Gellert again, not even when in Nurmengard, he was penitent and calling, begging to speak to him.

For his own sake, he had to stay away. Gellert would be the one person he would always want to forgive yet conversely, he would be the only person Albus would be unable to forgive. He had put him through too much. He had taken too much of himself. So instead of forgiving him, Albus chose to cling to the memories and the hurt that he had. He chose to remain chaste, to never let himself love someone again.

(It was just easier.)

Many people claim chastity as a virtue, but for Albus Dumbledore it had always been a form of punishment and penance.

It was just easier that way.


	3. o3. Lust

WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS FOUL LANGUAGE AND LESS THAN SUBTLE MENTIONS OF UNDERAGE SEX. IF THIS IS NOT OKAY WITH YOU, OR YOUR ENVIRONMENT, READ ELSEWHERE. HOWEVER, OVERALL RATING STILL REMAINS AT "R" DUE TO THE FACT THAT THERE IS NEVER ANY ACTUAL SCENES OF THEM HAVING SEX. 

Authors Note: This chapter is something that I'm not all together sure of my feelings toward it. It's un-cannonical, and for that I'm sorry. However, it was what seemed to work best. I'm sure you can also figure out who the characters are, despite there never being a mention of their names. Without further ado--the story. 

"True love never dies, for it is lust that fades away. Love bonds for a lifetime but lust pushes away."

 -Alicia Barnhart

 

Their hands claw for one another. They rip at clothes, they tear one another's flesh. Everything about their encounter is purely carnal. It isn't passion per say, more than it an unquenchable lust. Not a vivacious lust for life. Not gluttony. It is sexual, it is primeval.

He claims to be haunted, to be rigid, to be something evil. In her eyes he is nothing comparable to Asmodai—the King of the Nine Hells—the one who gives her all of this desire. In her eyes, he isn't the ravaged, solemn creature he claims to be.

He is an enigma, a secret that she must learn. 

His lips and teeth only nip, never bite—always afraid to break her skin. She doesn't understand why, she has done it enough times to him. He claims it's so her translucent skin isn't marred. She thinks it's because he has too much self control. 

They fuck one another. They covet one another. It's not love—it's a feral display of animalistic acrobatics. 

**

He yearns for her every moment of the day. He wants to feel her around him. He wants to lap at the blue veins throbbing with humanity under such a flimsy expanse of milky and freckled skin. He yearns to taste the salt of her blood. It must be full of so much more than cells and platelets and water. He knows it must taste like vitality—the vitality that he lost at the age of five. He wants to kiss her. He wants to hide her away, so she is only for him. He desires not just her body but her purity as well. 

She isn't pure—he thinks he's silly to think of her that way. But there is something in her, that is still less monstrous, less tarnished than he is. Even when the scratches from his nails scab over to match the amber of his eyes, he knows that it's only temporary. When he sees her healing, he knows that she will always be more whole than he ever could be. 

That is enough to make her the most pure being he's ever encountered. 

For him, when they fuck, it's wild and it's passionate. It's a beautiful display. It represents so much more than their basic humanistic need to procreate. 

He thinks he is falling in love with her, but is not naïve enough to expect that feeling to be returned. 

** 

She doesn't love him. It's something to fill her time between studying. He sees her as beauty and light and fragile. She isn't. 

He, in her mind is tame and reserved—until she can get him alone. And then she is pinned against a wall, fingers pushing her down with such a ferocity that she has bruises on her collar bones, her wrists, her hips. 

She loves this side of him. This is what made her want him. All of this unleashed rage, that coupled with his desire of her is more intoxicating than the strongest Firewhiskey. She knows that his friend wants her. But he is boring and prideful and all together too normal. There is no mystery. There is no hidden anger, no rage that stays simmering under an airtight lid. Everything is too open. 

He is her way of proving that she isn't sweet, that she isn't perfect. He is her way of proving, even if it's only to herself, that she isn't transcendent to vice. **

They meet twice a week, hidden in various parts of the castle. There is never any pretense. It's always a quick hello. A sudden urgent, gripping need to be close. Mouths enclose, tongues battle. Heads crash against stone walls or wooden floors. Neither of them are paying close enough attention to notice the pain. 

Their fingers damage their clothing. Rips and snares always leave them disheveled. Sometimes, their lust and need is too great, and they can't even be bothered to get their clothes all the way off. Fingers explore and shred skin the way they do the clothes. It's a power struggle that leaves them both screaming by the end. 

There is no finishing in silence, in hushed, dulcet, loving tones. It's just a staggering, life altering orgasm that leaves them both wasted and slumped. They always have to wait a moment—legs so weak that even when their breathing is normal, they still would probably betray their body weight. 

They don't cuddle up after their sex. Instead they wait for breath to come freely and when it does they dress in ripped clothing and leave separately. While they wait for oxygen to come again they lie fairly separate covered in bodily fluids from blood to semen. It isn't pretty, but they never set out for it to be.

**

As they grow older, as they mature, and life begins to become precious and ephemeral they separate. They change. Their needs changed. 

The friend who fancied her, who was boring and cocky, became stable and mature. In a world so dynamic and unstable, she began to lust not for him, but for stability. She began to yearn not for secret fucks, but for passion and love instead. 

He watched as she fell into the role of the tragic heroine. Fated to come into his life with such a sudden and intense burning only to leave with almost the same swiftness. He watched as she unlocked secrets within herself, as she revealed her true desires. With James she was radiant, blazing and fiery. With him her fire was dim, smothered by his own less-than bright amber. He watched as she went off and fell in love, pretty as can be. 

But then, how far did he really expect her to take their affair? They weren't supposed to grow old together, silver haired and beautiful. What they had was lust—and lust, no matter how intense is never pretty. 


End file.
